Page 19

19

JACK

SIGNS

H olding the crinkled letter in my hands, the paper soft from folding and refolding, I frown at my smugly beaming niece. “Why are you so happy? It says no, dummy!”

“But she said yes to my face.”

“But the letter says no!” I push her face away. “So really, you screwed up.”

The sting at the back of my head is expected, but the jab to my kidney is a tidy little surprise. “Don’t say that to my daughter, jerk. And don’t ask her to hit on women for you again.” Turning and walking backwards to keep me in her sight, Tina grins. “Though it does my heart good to see you hitting on women the old-fashioned way.”

“The old-fashioned way?”

She nods. “Yeah, you know… respectfully.”

“We had an ice-cream date,” Smalls announces before I can respond. “With Miss T.”

“You did?”

“Yep! Mr. Maxwell was asking her out again ,” she rolls her eyes, “so I jumped in and told her we had a date.”

“Atta girl.” I press a kiss to my favorite niece’s hair. “You saved the day, Bug.”

“I sure did. I don’t know why he keeps bothering her. She doesn’t like him.”

“He’s such a dick. ”

“That’s what I said!”

I choke and push her back. “Evie! Who’d you say that to?”

“To Miss T.”

Laughing, I pull her in and squish her face against my chest. “Jesus, Evelyn. You can’t say that to your teacher!”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. She told me off.”

Part of me wants to laugh that Britt told my niece off; both those girls are sassy as hell. A standoff would be entertaining. But then another part of me frowns that Britt was defending Brad. The second half wins and has my bottom lip coming between my teeth while I think.

“So you went on an ice-cream date… Did you hear anything good?”

“Nah. Mom and Miss T didn’t talk about anything good while I was there. We just talked about me and Bean fighting. But after I went to the bathroom, I saw Miss T blush real hard at something Mom said.”

“Miss T blushed?”

“Yep.”

Rolling my lip between my teeth, I think about the unflappable Britt blushing. What did Tina say to her? “Interesting…”

“Jack!” Bobby snaps from the ring. “Stop gossiping and move your ass.”

He’s such a fuckin’ grouch.

He’s taken it upon himself to be my personal nightmare. We’re working on my technique, my tell , and my endurance.

I’ve had three fights in as many months, and though I don’t have the multi-million-dollar endorsements and fights like I used to, at least people are looking at me again – for the right reasons.

I won all three bouts, though none of them were the straight knockouts I used to deliver once upon a time.

A year ago, I had sponsors.

Lots of them.

Sponsors who paid me lots of money to wear their shit and smell the way they wanted me to smell. The millions of dollars in fight winnings was never even touched, because my sponsors paid me so much and plastered me everywhere so often, that I was literally a name almost anyone in the country would recognize.

My face was on magazine covers and the sides of buses. I had screens in Times Square, and signs on freeways. Steph was offered millions in deals for girly products, simply because she was beautiful, and she was with me.

People still know me, but the last year’s behavior replaced that image with one of a party-hard asshole. The asshole that I really am when Steph’s charm no longer shields me.

But I’m working on getting back to where I was.

My fights tend to pay in the tens of thousands at the moment, as opposed to the tens of millions, but that’s alright. I was the one who gave it all away. No one took it from me… well, except the drunk driver who took my world.

But here I am, back in my gym, sweating, and willing to work to get it all back.

“Jack!”

“I’m coming!” I shoot a glare at Bobby, release my niece and step away. “Thanks for looking out for Miss T today, Bug. I owe you one.”

“No problem, Uncle Jack. I’ve got your back.”

Yeah, she does. Walking backwards, I grin. “Hey, Bug. What flavor ice-cream did she choose?”

She smiles mischievously. “Strawberry Swirl.”

Nodding, I spin and run toward Bobby. I’m three seconds away from hitting the canvas, because I’m still rusty, and he’s still a world champion caliber fighter.

I’ve still gotta prove that he didn’t waste his career by stepping down when I went pro.

A few days after tapping out to my brother-in-law, I find myself sprawled out on the grass covering Steph’s grave while picking petals off a daisy I stole from my sister.

Sometimes I buy flowers from the store, other times, times that I want to give her a little bit of home, I steal from Kit’s garden.

Either way, I always bring her flowers.

Flicking a purple petal to the grass, I stare at the clouds in the sky and try to mentally rearrange them into shapes.

“So, remember I told you about that girl… Britt?” Picking off another petal, I watch it float in the breeze. “Well, I dunno. I guess I think about her sometimes.” Another petal, a nervous tic. “I don’t know her, not really. But I kinda feel like she’s important. She doesn’t even know it, but in a way, she kind of saved me.” Another petal picked off, flicked, landing on Annie’s lazy back. “I already told you about all the shitty things I did, but of everyone who tried, she was the one who stopped the spiral.

“I think about her a lot, but I don’t know if it’s because maybe I like her, or just because she was the catalyst. You know what I mean? She was in the right place at the right time. Or maybe the wrong place at the wrong time. I just…” I shrug and flick another petal away. “I don’t even know, baby. It was always you. I never even had to consider anyone else, because it was always you. And we were so easy. We fell into it, like an easy slide into a warm bath. But now everything feels different.”

Standing with a grunt, Annie spins in a circle three times, grunts, then drops back in exactly the same spot she started.

I love her. Annie saved me, too. If I didn’t have her and my family, I may have taken a much more direct route to killing myself.

Turning back to Steph, I smile and think of her curls. “I thought I had a type. You know… like… you. Whatever you were, ya know? Quiet. Mousy. Cute. The perfect complement to my loud and annoying. But Britt’s not like you at all. She’s so in your face it’s ridiculous. She likes to party, and she looks absolutely nothing like you. She has all the ink you refused to get. She’s edgy and sassy.”

I sigh. “I love you, Steph. I loved you exactly the way you were, so maybe that’s why this doesn’t make sense to me? Because if I finally decided I might look at girls again, shouldn’t I be looking at girls like you? Shouldn’t I be attracted to my type? I mean, shit, babe. She keyed my car! You and Bambie are so different, and the differences give me whiplash. I can’t even try to compare you both, because it’s like comparing a unicorn and a… well, maybe a raccoon.” I smile and pick the last three petals off. “Or maybe a unicorn and a deer. They just can’t be compared. They’re nothing alike.” I turn onto my side and study her plaque. “Not that any of it matters; I asked her out, and she said no.

“I know it sounds weird, but I wish you were here so I could ask your advice. I know that if you were here, I wouldn’t actually need the advice. But still, I wish you could tell me what to do…”

Lying silently in the sun, I listen to Annie’s light snores and the branches swaying in the wind. If I just closed my eyes, I could actually fall asleep.

Despite the fact I’m lying on my dead girlfriend’s grave, I still find myself thinking about the other girl. I don’t feel guilty. Not exactly. I’m talking to Steph about her. I’m not cheating, and I’m not lying, and I truly think that if Steph were still here and for some crazy reason we didn’t work out, she’d still want me to be happy.

That’s how perfect and pure she was. Kind and fair to a fault.

“Alright, you know what?” Sitting up, I cross my legs. “Why don’t you give me a sign? If you think I should ask her out again, give me a sign. A fire engine on the road? A bird swooping down and nipping at Annie’s butt? A rainbow? Anything, baby.” I’m begging you, tell me what to do.

I look toward the road; no fire engine.

I watch the skies, but there are no swooping birds and no rainbows.

Thinking about my predicament, I chew on my bottom lip. “Okay, let me rephrase that. If you want me to ask her again, don’t give me a sign.”

Still.

No fire engines.

No birds.

No rainbows.

Smiling victoriously, I jump to my feet. “Good enough, baby.” I kneel in front of her headstone and press a kiss to the top. “I love you, Steph. I’ll love you for the rest of my life, I promise.” I take one daisy from the few dozen I brought. “One for me, the rest for you. I’ll see you next week.”

Turning away with my daisy in hand, I stop at the sight of a second loose flower by my shoe. Bending over and picking it up, I twirl each in separate hands. “You want me to have two?” Nodding, the peace I feel every time I visit slides through my heart, comforting like a warm embrace.

Six months ago, I was terrified to come here. I thought it would hurt too much. I thought the guilt would eat me alive. But if I’d known how she’d take the weight off my shoulders every single week, I might’ve turned to her instead of a bottle of bourbon. “Two flowers it is. Thanks, baby. I love you.”

Moving away, I walk across the manicured lawn, past the beautiful rainbow of flowers that line the walkways, and smile at the birds that sit on headstones as they alternate between singing and shitting.

I stop about eighty feet away from Steph’s headstone, and smile at another. “Hey, Dad.”

Tidying his flowers, I smile at the full vase of pink and white daisies. “I have two today, Dad. I was gonna share, but it looks like Kit’s got you all set.” Twirling mine between my fingers, I smile and read the name written in the small concrete headstone.

When my dad died, we – Kit – was broke as fuck. She did the best she could, but her main focus was making sure I had enough food in my belly. A headstone just wasn’t something she could afford to splash out on.

“I know you didn’t get much, but I figure you don’t mind.” Kneeling, I lean against his headstone and sigh. “I hope you’re doing okay up there. It’s been a long time. Ten years this year, actually. Does that make you feel old or what?” I close my eyes and let out a weary breath. “It makes me feel old. I feel like I’ve lived a hundred years already.”

Lifting my head, I prepare myself to get on with another day. “Anyway, I’ll come see you more often, I promise. I love you, Dad. I miss you more than you know. Thank you for giving me Kit. She’s the best gift anyone has ever given me.”

Standing before I bog myself down in too much grief, I walk away with Annie on my heels, and think about signs.

About rainbows and birds and fire engines, but still, nothing.

Following the marked pathway, I step through the thick trees at the edge of the estate and almost trip over my own feet when I spot the girl leaning against my car.

Not quite schoolmarm, but not quite Club-Bambie, either, she’s rocking out somewhere in the middle.

Tiny little cutoff shorts that cut off in a really fucking nice way, with Doc Marten boots stretching above her ankles, a floaty gray tank with shiny gems, and about six hundred leather bangles on her wrists.

With sunglasses taking up half her face – but not her smile – I take in the happiness she exudes and keep some of it for myself. “Well played, Steph.” Murmuring under my breath, I laugh and keep moving forward. “Well played.”

“Hey there, stranger.”

Smiling, I stop and take in her beauty. “Hey, Bambie. You sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Yeah?” Lifting her glasses to the top of her head, she tucks long strands of hair behind her ears. “Well, I’m glad I stopped, then.”

“Me, too.” Looking down at the daisies in my hands, I look over my shoulder, not seeing Steph through the trees, but seeing her, anyway. Turning back to Britt, I offer one of the two. “Here you go. A pretty flower for a pretty girl.”

Taking it hesitantly, a playful grin creeps across her face. “Did you steal this from the cemetery? Because that’s a little creepy.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Didn’t steal it, I swear.”

She brings the flower to her nose and inhales. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Walking forward to stand beside her, I rest against the hood of my car and watch her hair float in the breeze. “So, is there a reason you have your ass on my poor abused car?”

Laughing, she twirls her flower and shrugs. “I recognized the custom lettering on the side, figured yours is surely the only Mustang in town with my name scratched into the paint. I knew you were nearby, wanted to say hey.”

“Were you waiting long?” I was sitting with Steph for at least forty-five minutes.

“No. Maybe five minutes. I was getting ready to lie on the hood and work on my tan. I could do with a nap. It’s been a big week.”

Smiling, I gently bump her shoulder with mine. “Are you hungry?”

Lazily stroking Annie’s ears, she peeks up at me from sparkling blue eyes. “I could be.”

I look over her shoulder and stop on her small car parked behind mine. “Hop in. We can have a picnic, then I’ll bring you back later.”

Studying me for almost a full minute, she finally nods and buries her nose in the flower. “Alright.”

Opening the passenger side door, I help her slide in, then jog around the hood and open my door for Annie to jump in. As soon as she bullies her way into the back, I slide in and meet Bambie’s eyes. “Do you have any dislikes? Allergies?”

“I don’t like sushi. Or peanuts. Oh, or olives. Or anchovies. But I do like leather.” Purring, she runs her hands over her seat. “Soft as a baby’s ass.”

Laughing, I switch on the engine and listen to all three-hundred and ten horses roar to life.

She lets out a dramatic orgasmic groan. “I was a little distracted the last time I was in this car, what with being mostly naked and sitting with your sisters and all that. I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to enjoy this car, but holy crap on a cracker, Jack. It’s pretty.”

Smiling the way I did the day after my first training session in Bobby’s gym, I slide the stick shift into first and move onto the street.

Cruising along residential streets, I bite my tongue and say nothing as she fusses with my stereo – ballsy since I know she’s the type that would snap my wrists if I touched hers.

Deciding to go way old school, she stops on Christina Aguilera’s Genie In A Bottle, then sitting back and curling into the seat, she strokes Annie’s ears and grins.

“How’re things, Britt? It’s been a while.”

“Ah, you know. Same, same.” Flicking long hair over her shoulder, she looks up at me with a grin. “What about you?”

“Same, same,” I parrot. “Training. Working. Herding children.”

“Speaking of,” she laughs. “Did you know your niece knows the word dick? ”

My eyes snap from the road and stop on hers. “Come again!?”

“Yeah, she called Brad a dick.”

The laughter – and relief – rolls through my chest in a way that releases a coil of tension I didn’t even know I was holding on to. “Oh, that. Yeah, I forgot about that. She told me. I fucking love that kid.”

Britt rolls her eyes. “She’s lucky I didn’t give her detention.”

“She would’ve done her time, then we would’ve high-fived over ice-cream.” I shrug. “She’s just looking out for you, Bambie. Brad is a dick.”

“He might be a dick, but she’s eleven. She’s not allowed to say that!”

Downshifting, I pull around a corner, then speed up. “My girl is twelve, now, Bambie. I can’t believe you don’t know that.”

Fast as a snake, she slams her fist against my thigh. “Twelve is no better than eleven!”

“Whatever.” Laughing, I smack her hand away when she comes back for a second shot. “I’m not her mom, and I’m not her teacher. You will not hear me discouraging her hatred of Brad the Bore.” Pulling into the Wendy’s drive-thru, I turn to her with a grin. “Want a hotdog?”

Pulling up to Lookout Hill, I park the Mustang not so far from the cliff edge and climb out. It’s going on mid-afternoon, so the sun is still high and pleasantly warm.

With the stereo playing low, the soft sounds of Pink’s True Love our background music, I grab our bags of food and drinks, and plop them on the roof. Lifting Britt – though of course, she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself – I shuffle her across the hood to make room for myself, then wait for her to get comfortable and lay back against the windshield.

Grabbing three hotdogs out of the bag for Annie, I set them on the ground and give her the go ahead to eat them. Taking the bag of leftovers, I climb up and lay down close enough to Britt that her bare arm and shoulder brush against mine.

I enjoy watching her out of the corner of my eyes; her silky hair, the button nose with the glittery piercing. Her pouty lips that glint in the sunlight. The sunglasses that hide her most beautiful assets, though her smile makes up for it.

Turning her head the way she did on my sister’s couch on pizza night, she chews her bottom lip in contemplation. “Jack?”

“Mmm?” I work to unpack our food.

“Were you visiting your mom and dad… at the cemetery? ”

Stopping, I study her glasses and wish she’d take the fuckers off. “Um…” Shakily pulling out a hotdog, I pass it over and buy a little time. “No olives. No peanuts. No sushi.”

Smiling, oblivious to the fire that races through my blood, she accepts the food and starts unwrapping it. “And no anchovies. You totally nailed it. Thank you.”

Suddenly not so hungry, I take my red soda and sip. Fuck knows if I’m ready for this, but today’s as good as any to try.

Sitting my soda between my legs, I reach across and slowly drag the glasses off her face. She watches me closely, but she doesn’t stop me. Buying time by folding the frame and sitting them between us, I look up and meet her icy blue stare.

“How much friendship are you looking for here, Bambie?”

Biting her lip in thought, her eyes flick between mine. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I could tell you the real reason why I was at the cemetery today, or we could keep it light and I’ll just nod and agree and we can go back to hotdogs and flirting.”

Her brows pull low as she considers my words.

“Either option is fine with me,” I continue. “I honestly don’t mind which you choose. But the heavier version is heavy , and maybe you don’t wanna know. I don’t want to burden you with my shit, so I don’t mind if you choose the easy stuff.”

She watches me for another long minute, then turns back to her hotdog and takes a small bite. Her continued silence has me figuring she’s not interested in the heavy.

Fine by me. I don’t particularly wanna talk about it, either.

“Tell me the real, Jack. I want the truth, always. That’s what friends are for.”

My eyes snap to hers. “Yeah?”

Chewing her hotdog, she nods easily. “Mmhmm. I’m a badass gangster rapper. I can handle just about anything you throw my way.”

I can’t even laugh at her attempted funny. “It’s pretty heavy, Britt. And even if you sent my love note home with a big fat no, it’s not really something most girls will be comfortable talking about.”

She shrugs. Tucking hair behind her ear, she mesmerizes me with the half a dozen glittering earrings that line the shell. “I’m a tough cookie, Jack. If you wanna tell me, I wanna listen. Who knows, you might even like telling me.”

Well, here goes. “I was visiting my dead girlfriend. ”

“Well. FUCK!” She shoots up on the hood and sends her soda flying into the air.

On guard, Annie’s head pops and her teeth pull back so viciously, I worry I’m seconds away from losing my leg. We all know whose side Annie chooses.

“How long has she been… gone? How long were you together? How old was she? Oh my fuck! Jesus Christ, Jack. Are you okay?”

Never in a million years did I expect to smile while telling this story, but here I am, half sticky with red soda, and smiling at the girl I kind of have a crush on… while I tell her about my dead girlfriend.

“Um…” Chuckling, I watch her wide eyes. “Her name was Steph–”

“No. Wait!” Leaning forward, she throws her arms over my shoulders and pulls me in so tight, I almost weep like a damn child. This is the kind of hug only my family can give. This is a good fucking hug. “Are you okay?” Rubbing my back, her lips brush across my ear, but best of all, her hair curtains my face. “I should tell you upfront, I don’t know anyone who’s died. Legit. I’ve lost no one. I mean, my grandma died, but I didn’t really know her, so that doesn’t actually count, right? The most traumatic thing that ever happened in my life was when Mufasa died, so I’m sorry if I’m really bad at this.” Pulling away too soon, she catches me turning my face into my shoulder to wipe away an errant tear. “Shit, I’m sorry for interrupting you. Okay, keep going. Her name was Steph? That’s a beautiful name.”

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I give her a shaky smile and glance away. “Yeah… Steph. And I’m okay, sorta. I’m better than I was, I guess. You saw me at my worst, so you can be the judge of that.”

Slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes pop wide when she remembers. All that angry fucking. All that anger, full stop.

“So, yeah.” I sniff. “I’m doing… alright. Not perfect, but not bad, either.”

“How long ago?”

“Ah… Almost a year. It’ll be twelve months in a couple weeks.”

“Still so fresh.”

Nodding, I pick at a tiny fray in her shorts. “She was twenty-four years old, and we’d been together since high school. We were just babies. Sixteen and seventeen.”

“High school sweethearts…” she murmurs sadly. “How did she die?”

“Um…” The sounds of shattering glass breaks in my ears. The screeching tires. The roaring engine when, with my foot still on the pedal, th e tires were squealing but gaining no traction, because we were already airborne. “A drunk driver hit us on the freeway.”

“No.” A single tear spills over and slides along her rosy cheek. “I know this accident.” I’m not surprised. This is a small town, and it was big news. “X was there?”

“X?”

She nods. “Alex, my brother the cop.”

Alex, the cop I didn’t know, held my hand – in comfort, in restraint – as they lifted a sheet over her white face. “Yeah, he was there.”

“Holy shit, you’re Jack Reilly, the fighter.”

I smile, though it’s not a full smile like before. “You didn’t know that yet?”

“No. I mean, I knew you were a fighter, but I didn’t know… I’d heard of the Kincaids. They’re big news around here, and I knew you were related to them, since I spent a super noisy dinner with ten of their offspring, but I guess I never… I didn’t connect the two. You’re the Jack Reilly, like,” she pauses and counts fingers, “three-time world champion.”

Smiling like I shouldn’t in this moment, I twist the denim fray of her shorts around my finger and throw her an easy smirk. “Six-time champion, actually.”

Her eyes sparkle, half tears, half laughter. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, Jack ‘ The Jackhammer’ Reilly.” Mocking my fight name like no one ever has before, she claps her hands together in prayer. “Please, sir , forgive me. I had no idea my hotdogs were purchased by royalty. Jesus, why didn’t Wendy come out and kiss your toes?”

“Shut up.” I knock my shoulder into hers. “Don’t mock my shit.”

“No, I’m not kidding!” Moving onto her knees, she kneels beside my legs and gets the toes of her Docs wet with soda. “I beg your forgiveness, Mr. Reilly. Please, m’lord, forgive my ignorance.”

“Stop.” Grabbing her, I push her back down to her ass beside me, and I shut up the tiny voice in my mind that knows she’s acting like a fool to take the focus off my shitty story.

She might be one of those people. Like Kit, instead of dealing with a serious topic, we just laugh it off.

I can dig that. It’s better than crying. “So you’re really telling me you didn’t fuck me that first time because I was The Jackhammer?”

“No!” Wide eyed, she giggles. “I fucked you because your ass was better than mine.”

I snort .

“And the second, third, and fourth times were because I saw your dick the first time, and it felt damn good.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel good, Bambie.”

With twitching lips and big blue eyes staring up at me, she’s like a snake charmer, and I can’t help but be hypnotized by her beauty. “Tell me your favorite memory with Steph.”

Hesitating, I look over the lookout. “Umm–”

“I mean, only if you want to. I just,” she shrugs shyly. “I’d like to know, if you want to tell me. I bet she was amazing.” Smiling seductively, though I doubt that’s her intention, she takes my hand and threads her fingers through mine.

What kind of warped world is this that I’m talking to a hot girl that I may or may not have a crush on, about my late girlfriend?

Shouldn’t Britt be brushing Steph under the rug to never be mentioned again?

“Um, I’m really not sure.”

A million memories flash through my mind, from high school to graduation, prom and homecoming. The thousands of nights Steph and I spent sitting by Kit and Bobby’s pool, simply talking about nothing, or everything.

About my journey from friendly fights to going pro, or her decision on what to study at college and which school to attend. She was offered scholarships to prestigious schools all across the country, she was valedictorian, she was the smartest girl I ever met, yet she stayed here, drove into the city for classes during the week, then drove home again, to come back to me.

“I really don’t know. She was such a constant in my life for so long, I feel like simply her presence was my favorite thing. I could turn around on any given day, in any gym or room, in any house or city or stadium, and she was there. Every time.”

One of my most constant and paralyzing fears is that she spent all her time doing everything to make me happy, living my dreams with me, that she never had a chance to live her own.

I’m scared I stole her life long before the drunk did.

No longer laughing, no longer playful, Britt lays my palm on her thigh and contemplatively plays with my fingers. “I’m sorry you lost her, Jack. I’m really, really sorry.”

Nodding – because what else can I do? – I bring my hand to the back of her neck and pull her in close. Her eyes flash with uncertainty, excitement, wariness… and finally, acceptance .

I almost stop, I almost get up and walk away, but the acceptance in her eyes spurs me on. Pulling her in until her hands go to my chest, I press my lips to hers in a long, slow caress.

There’s no tongue. No heat. No urgency.

Just a touch of the lips; a comfort for me, and hopefully for her, too.

Sighing against my lips, her soft body pressed against mine has me squeezing my eyes shut.

Yeah, I definitely have a crush on this girl, and I can’t say I’ve ever had a crush on any girl.

Ever.

There was just Steph. The girl I saw and liked at school, the girl I approached, the girl I claimed as my own, and I didn’t give her up till the day she died.

Now there’s Bambie.

The girl I have no fucking clue what to do with.